


Don't

by SephrinaRose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Stiles Death, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3467084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SephrinaRose/pseuds/SephrinaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Re-write of end of Season 3. </p><p>Stiles didn't want to die slowly, and he didn't want anyone else to die because of him...so he guessed that this would be a good way to go. </p><p>But that did not mean it didn't hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't

"Well" Stiles stated, seemingly in shock. "This is a bit anticlimactic isn't it?"

Scott shook his head, holding him close. Stiles folded into his hold, limp in his arms. They were both the same height...but Stiles had never looked smaller.

His lips trembled, like he was forming words then disregarding them when his brain caught up. He was in shock...terrible shock.

He just didn't want somebody to die because of him. He didn't want to live with that guilt. He didn't even know how he managed to make it here. One minute he was in the dark and mouldy hallway, exhaustion clawing at him.

The next he was in front of Allison.

He didn't even know how he knew it was going to happen. He wasn't a banshee, far from it. But, he could sense the pain. Which he guessed had been something left over from the Nogitsune. Cause it sensed pain and then found it...then consumed it.

But, he guessed he would never know specifically how he managed this feat.

Nobody would. And nobody would care.

Because he would be dead, and that was something bigger to worry about than how he did it.

He was sure Scott would mull over it later on. Think over every second, every moment. Wondering why and how he had done it. Why and how he'd sacrificed himself.

"G-Guess that dying slowly wasn't my style. Might as well m-make it quick while I'm at it." Stiles mused absently, looking up at Scott.

Scott whimpered, rocking him slightly with a low keening noise rising from his throat.

"...S-Sorry. Not really thinking about what I'm sayin'. Never have, really." He muttered, eyes rolling back and around absently to gage the situation.

Everyone was watching on in various degrees of shock, most with looks of confusion as they asked themselves how the hell he'd done it.

Allison was sitting there numbly, eyes trained on the nasty wound in his torso, leaking blood so dark it looked black. He was sure it had gone through his spleen or something equally vital. Shame really. If it had been his lungs it would have bled less.

And this whole fiasco would have been quicker.

Because this hurt like a bitch. Really. It was no 'oh...no, it doesn't hurt' death. It was 'oh shit it hurts like hell"

Because it did.

It hurt like _hell_. Or what he'd imagined hell to be.

He hoped he wouldn't go to hell. This life had already been painful enough to be called hell. Death, destruction and more death.

...Basically the definition of hell.

But, he hoped wherever he ended up.....he'd get to see his mother again. Just to ask for forgiveness, to tell her that he loved her. To hug her. And then, he wouldn't mind oblivion. Oblivion seemed nice. Just going to a place where there was absolutely nothing. Nothing to think about, nothing to have nightmares about.

Just peaceful nothingness.

And for him, the boy that was always moving and always thinking....it seemed like heaven enough.

It'd be his heaven. His peace.

Not that he'd get to decide. All he got to decide was how he died...the rest was out of anyone's hands. Just fate...or God. Or Allah or someone.

Whichever you believed in.

"How ya feeling Scott?" He asked conversationally. Scott only stared into his eyes, watching every movement he made and listening to every breath he took.

"Nah, didn't think so. I'm not feeling too great either. This actually hurts, despite what some may people think."

"Oh Stiles. Please don't, you cant..please don't" Scott said, continuing to rock him feverishly as Stiles died, emotions claiming him.

Time seemed to be moving slower for Stiles than everyone else, allowing him to think and to process everything in detail. He felt like he was being gently tugged, a warm presence pulling at his shirt sleeve with the strength of a mouse.

He knew what it was...And it scared him.

 

He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to die. He was only seventeen. He wanted to grow, wanted to live. But, he guessed... If he died, he might as well save somebody before he succumbed to whatever this was.

But at least he was himself. At least he could die as Stiles Stilinski...not some horrible monster.

At least he knew this decision was his own. That he was whole and he was willing to die this way. That this was something he wanted. Something he believed would be for the best.

Heh.

Look at him, pulling the 'it's for the best' card. That was literally the worst line ever invented. You never say that when you believe it's for the best, because it never is. Breaking up, dying...anything.

Nothing was for the best.

It always ended painfully for everyone involved. This was a prime example.

Everyone around him was crying, and he could feel tears in his own eyes. He knew he was crying because of the pain - the pain he was doing everything to ignore - But also because he was causing pain to the people he loved. But not all the people he loved...his dad wasn't here.

Oh god. Stiles suddenly felt the urge to throw up from the influx of emotions. His poor father. He was going to loose the last family he had. He was going to lose his only son.

He was going to be the last Stilinski.

 

Stiles flinched violently, a pressure rising in his throat. He gasped, struggling to breathe as it clogged his airway. He felt Scott screaming at him and the cries around him growing louder by the second... but he was rather preoccupied trying to breathe.

He felt it rise up, before exploding from him. He coughed violently, body convulsing. He felt sticky gunk run down his chin, staining his skin as it slid down his neck.

Blood.

He slowly came back to reality, gasping and keening as his pain flared from the all the involuntary spasming.

He felt Scott's tears in his hair.

"S-sorry." He stuttered, blood slippery on his shivering lips. But strangely, he couldn't taste it. Couldn't taste the tangy iron flavour.

...He was dying quite quickly.

It didn't seem so to him, not with his mind moving so fast. But he knew he was.

He was loosing touch with his body. It was shutting down. Soon his brain would shut down...if it got the chance. His body was dying quite rapidly...he might even die, fulling aware.

And he didn't know how he felt about that.

But he felt it now, like a force picking him up, forcibly removing him from where he lay...trying to take him up and into the stars.

He knew what it was...but suddenly it didn't seem so bad.

He smiled hauntingly, blood colouring his lips a bright red which drained the life from his complexion. He felt his chest heave and his body shake as his body tried to fight off his approaching death. His lips trembled, but not out of fear. His mind was clear...but his body was still terrified. Electrical impulses firing haphazardly and emotions rolling as all his gears faltered and jammed, letting his organs die and his body slowly give up.

And it was okay.

 

This was what he wanted, right? It was okay. This is what he wanted.

Or did he? A part of him selfishly hoped that he had never been apart of this. That he had never met Allison or Scott. That he never been dying in the first place. That he never felt the need to save his best friends mate.

But he shut it down immediately.

He was glad for this life.

Glad for the people he met, for the family he had left, for the friends he had made, for the pack he had joined...

He was glad.

Because he had done something. He'd lived. It may have been painful and full of hardships and destruction...but this was living. He knew more about this world than he could have ever hoped for. Lived a life he'd never dreamed of.

He was happy, he was content.

And if that meant he would have to die, to die for somebody loved...that was okay.

That _was_ okay.

Because he'd lived. He'd loved.

And now he would die.

It was the circle of life. And it was okay. It was his turn to die. Somebody was going to die tonight, and he was glad it had been him. The Nogitsune would die with him.

It would all work out in the end. Beacon Hills would be safe once more.

His friends would be safe once more.

But, he was sad that he wouldn't be able to go on adventures with them anymore. Wouldn't be able to help out as they ran across the town and scavenged for clues. Wouldn't be able to be Batman or Robin or whoever.

He wouldn't be able to save anyone anymore...but at least he could die saving Allison, saving them from the Nogitsune.

He could go out with a bang.

...Just as he liked it.

"H-hey...Scott?" He said, words barely a whisper as his strength sapped from him, only just leaving enough for him to form the words. Body seized and shuddered violently as he struggled with the pain. The pain Stiles refused to let Scott take.

Because he doing this to avoid causing Scott pain. And it would be counterproductive if he let him feel the pain that was consuming him fully.

"Stiles?" Scott asked back, and Stiles could see the tears running down his face through his fogging vision.

"I gotta go." He said with disturbing clarity. And Scott hissed his displeasure.

"No, you are not allowed. I won't let you." Scott growled, low and threatening through his tears.

But Scott didn't have a choice...neither did Stiles. And besides, he felt weightless.

"Think of your dad, please. Please Stiles."

"Can't...think." He managed. Because he couldn't. He couldn't think about what destruction he would leave upon his fathers heart. Couldn't think about the empty space he was leaving at the dinner table, or bed he didn't make this morning, or the cereal plate he left in the sink...something his dad always told him to do.

Because he couldn't think.

"No...you can think! You can always think Stiles, your brain is amazing! Come on bud, think of way out of this!"

Scott was getting hysterical.

"I...I love y-you...too" Stiles said, eyes looking up as the stars crept closer to him.

Or maybe he was going up to meet them? Like, he could he hovering now, waiting to float off.

He felt pretty weightless.

...except for the heavy arms around him, grounding him.

"No..." He muttered, eyes going in and out of focus as he tried to formulate the words. He gasped, breathes shortening and mind reeling. But he felt calm.

He was okay. This was okay. He was happy to die for them

For Scott, his best friend. The boy he'd been with since forever. His brother, who deserved to live happily. Happily with Allison...Maybe they'd even name their kid Stiles in his memory. That'd be cool.

For Allison. The girl that meant so much to everyone, and so much to him. The kind girl that he had learnt to trust. The girl that he would jump in front of if it meant they could be happy.

For Lydia. The girl that could sense death. The smart and beautiful girl that meant so much to him. And the girl that would never of recovered after Allison's death...and she never really cared for his affections anyway.

For Kira. A girl he'd only just come to terms with, but fought so hard to save him. Sorry Kira.

For Issac. The boy that had been through so much, and had only just learned to love again. Learned to love Allison. And he couldn't take that away.

For his dad. The man that he didn't really understand, but loved so deeply. His father the sheriff. His father that loved him so much....but would always loose him in the end.

"Want...want to float." He gasped, the stars brightening and erasing Scott from his vision, erasing the world around him. He felt like a feather, like the wind could just carry him away. Carry him to his mom.

He felt safe, warm... protected. He was invincible. He was batman. Nothing could hurt him...not anymore. No nightmares, no creatures lurking in the dark. Nothing that couldn't infect him, nothing that could change him. He was dying as himself, dying the way he wanted.

And that was good. That was okay.

"Oh god...please don't leave me! Stiles! _Stiles_!" Scott screamed, voice echoing like he was far away. Maybe he was. Scott screamed loud, desperate.

But he was floating.

"No...don't.... _don't_...Stiles. As alpha, I _order you_ to stay...no...you can't....don't you _dare_ -"

But he was never really one for listening to orders.


End file.
